I'm Sailing Away . . .

[wapWAPwapWAP--alarm sound, eleven tentacles stick straight out, catapulting Hairy away from lair wall, where he'd been sleeping] HEY, WHAT!? SHELOB!

Here.

I don't remember that alarm! What does that mean?

Approaching opposite point in solar orbit from Perseid occurrence.

[five eyes dilate] You mean--?

Time to go.

I should blog a tentative farewell, shouldn't I? This time it might actually work.

What do you wish to say?

Uh . . . I hope I've helped. I hope you all enjoyed. I hope that if I don't get gone, I re-enter smoothly in less than a week. Shelob? The viewer doesn't show anything about Herr D having a tragedy this week, right?

Inconclusive as always. Too many permutations.

[gill division, rapid shallow intake, translatable as a snarl] I shoulda built one of those magic eight ball thingies!

I should thank Herr D too. He has been a big help understanding the natives, making graphics, and lending a hand here and there in other ways. Can you manage that communique for me, Shelob? I gotta pack. [seizes various small orbs from a cabinet and a laminated Playboy magazine centerfold, begins stuffing them into marsupial-like pouch]

Yes. People please do not expect Hairy for approximately six days. An astronomical confluence and certain logistical anomalies concerning a current long term goal will have his full attention. Thank you for your attention. Herr D, thank you for your assistance with graphics, occasional words, and the one time with building materials. [disconnect]